


what doesn't kill you; kills your friends

by InvadingThoughts



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Arguing, Break Up, Character Death, Depression, Established Relationship, Fake AH Crew, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 16:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvadingThoughts/pseuds/InvadingThoughts
Summary: Geoff is waiting for him.He hasn’t quite seen Michael yet, which is a blessing in itself, but Michael can definitely see him. He’s no more than a body pressed against the cold, run-down brick wall at the mouth of the alley, fingers fidgeting with something hidden in his pocket. And sure, maybe he’s nothing more than a darkened silhouette, but Michael’s well versed in the curves of Geoff Ramsey’s body. He’s spent enough of his time with him in the dark to know for sure that it’s him.





	what doesn't kill you; kills your friends

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt on tumblr: "you watched me break down"
> 
> you can find me there @jeremichal!

Geoff is waiting for him.

He hasn’t quite seen Michael yet, which is a blessing in itself, but Michael can definitely see him. He’s no more than a body pressed against the cold, run-down brick wall at the mouth of the alley, fingers fidgeting with something hidden in his pocket. And sure, maybe he’s nothing more than a darkened silhouette, but Michael’s well versed in the curves of Geoff Ramsey’s body. He’s spent enough of his time with him in the dark to know for sure that it’s him.

But fucking hell, Michael really wishes it  _wasn’t_.

He feels like he’s frozen solid, stuck in place from his spot across the street, his hip resting against a strangers Entity. It’s not Jack’s; the first thing he did was check to make sure. Rather, it’s an obnoxious orange colour and he can’t help the tinge of disappointment in his heart for its lack of ‘complementing’ purple. Never in his life did he think he’d miss that horrendous mishmash of colours, but…  _here he fucking is_.

That’s what you get with a city like Los Santos, he guesses.

And that’s what he gets for trusting Ramsey.

He makes no move to cross the street, quite content to just hover in the shadows. Michael’s glad for the small moment of anonymity because honestly, he needs to prepare himself. The last time he saw Geoff, there was a newly carved hole right in the centre of his chest and no one around to plaster hello kitty bandaids on it or to convince him to just down a couple of shots of Jäger and pass out on the couch. So he had to make do alone, while all the while Geoff pretended that he didn’t exist.

It’s no big deal though. Michael’s over it.

Or, at least he  _was_ , up until two days ago when Geoff so happened to call him, babbling about ‘one last job’ through the speaker of his phone. So he’s here now, partly because he’s an idiot  _and_ partly because he’s a stubborn fucking bastard. There’s no way he’s letting Geoff get off easy this time. He doesn’t have to be a psychic to know that this is Geoff’s idea of a lame attempt to fix things between them, but the old bastard is an idiot if he thinks that a simple apology is going to change things. If he’s lucky enough, Michael just might  _not_ punch him before leaving, but he’s not making any promises.

He counts down from five in his head before he ends up sighing, pushing himself off of the car and forwards towards Geoff. Even though he keeps his footsteps light, Geoff still notices him approaching anyway. The crunch of an old candy wrapper under the heel of his boot giving him away. He watches the gent snap to attention, the mark of an old soldier, and feels anger claw up his throat. He swallows it down, of course, desperate to hold onto that emotionless facade of his and instead tips his chin up slightly, decidedly meeting Geoff’s gaze head-on.

“You wanted to see me?” he asks, keeping his tone cold and flat.

He’s trying his best to be perfectly detached from the moment, but all it does is make Geoff frown. He steps away from the wall, a small hesitant step, and crosses further into the light where Michael can see him. And for the first time in three weeks, Michael catches sight of someone he once called his lover.

Part of him  _wishes_ he could say it’s the same old Geoff standing in front of him, but now, Michael can see how hard he’s taken things.

The bags under his eyes; the added tinge of grey to his hair. The way he fidgets with the ends of his sleeves as Michael watches him. He’s more of a shell than an actual man and Michael would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt him to see him like this.

But then he remembers  _why_ , and the anger melts away all the sympathy he has for him. So just out of spite, Michael slips both of Gavin’s and Jeremy’s necklaces out from underneath his shirt. He doesn't take as much satisfaction from the way Geoff blanches at the sight that he wishes he could though. Any other time he’d feel cruel, but he hasn’t really been feeling much of anything lately. All of his emotions were sucked out of him in that hotel room, and to be honest, he hasn’t been really trying to get them back.

Well, all of them  _except_ anger.

Geoff moves again, taking a step towards Michael and he doesn’t even need to think about it before he’s taking his own step back. Something flickers in Geoff’s gaze, maybe regret, maybe disappointment, but it’s too fast for Michael to catch. The lad holds his ground though and inevitably, Geoff gives in, letting out a soft sigh before stepping back again. Michael doesn’t know if he expects him to even things out again, but even if he does, Michael doesn’t care. Instead, he remains as still as a statue in the middle of the alley, staring down at the concrete beneath his feet.

“You’ve been avoiding my calls, babe,” Geoff finally whispers and Michael knows they both feel the wave of  _wrongness_ that washes over them at the pet name. He clenches his jaw, somehow managing not to clench his fist and Geoff looks away, glancing back over his shoulder. Of course, he doesn’t really  _need_ to tell Geoff not to call him that anymore, but he still does it anyway.

“I’m not your babe, Ramsey,” he hisses and Geoff just lets out a broken wheeze.

It takes a moment, but he nods his head, eyes slowly drift back to the necklaces sitting around Michael’s neck and Michael has to stop himself from deliberately slipping them back under his shirt. The unexpected urge to yell at Geoff claws it’s way up his throat and he tries to swallow it down. He wants to scream, either at Geoff or at anyone who will listen, that these necklaces are  _his_ and he doesn’t deserve to even _look_  at them.

They’re not Ryan’s, no matter how much he tried to fight Michael for Jeremy’s cross, they’re not Jack’s and they’re definitely not fucking Geoff’s.

“I was hoping we could talk first,” he pleads, changing his stance and holding his hands out by his sides, “about  _us_  before we get to the business side of things.”

Michael lets out a humourless laugh. He has to give it to him, Geoff’s a stubborn bastard just like he is, and it’s part of the reason he fell for him so hard once upon a time. They were made for each other, in a way, two unstoppable forces colliding until the universe inevitably bent to their will. Michael knows how this is going to go down. He knows Geoff’s not going to give up until he gets what he wants, and it goes against every fibre of his being, but this time he’s not going to let that happen.

He knows how, but it’s like cutting out a part of himself and Michael knows it’s going to hurt like hell. He grabs for the two necklaces hanging around his neck and twists them between his fingers, trying to ignore the way his stomach rolls.

“No, Geoff,” he bites back, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

Geoff opens his mouth, barely managing to splutter out, “Michael- Michael,  _please_ ,” before Michael shuts him down.

He wishes he could take some sort of sick satisfaction from Geoff’s pain, but he can’t. It doesn’t matter how much he tries, he can’t quite give himself over to the precipice and  _actually_ hate Geoff. There’s too much history between them that stop him.

“I’m not doing this with you anymore,” he explains, shaking his head. His face feels hot against the cool, night air and he presses a hand to his forehead. He wonders if he’s getting sick, or if it's just the destroyed look on Geoff’s face getting to him. “No- I can’t. I want you to fucking know that this the  _last_ time you will ever  _fucking_ see me again. I’m not coming back, I’m not answering your calls. This is it, you old fuck, we’re done,” he spits.

Geoff clenches his jaw, and while he sways lightly on his feet, he somehow manages to remain standing. “How- how can I  _fix_ this, Michael,” he begs. His eyes dart around the alleyway, but they always end up settling back on him, “How can I fix  _us_?”

Michael huffs a humourless laugh. He shakes his head slowly, letting out an exasperated huff before cracking his knuckles. The sound bounces around the alleyway, temporarily filling the silence, but not doing much to make things less tense. “You can’t,” he replies, dropping his gaze to the floor, “there’s no coming back from this one, Geoff.”

“We could try again,” he whispers, broken and so quiet that Michael almost misses it.  _Almost_. He flinches, jerking backwards as if Geoff had chosen to actually hit him instead. There’s a flicker of disbelief in Geoff’s gaze when he meets it, and while Michael knows that Geoff would never actually  _physically_ hurt him, his words do more than enough damage to make up for it.

“Try again?” he asks, incredulous, “I’d rather  _die_ than ever let you touch me again, Ramsey,” he spits, feeling the hole inside him open up again at his words. Again, his hand moves to grab the necklaces around his neck, like they’re the only thing keeping him stable,  _afloat_. Gavin’s heavy gold chain and Jeremy’s cross. It feels weird to have them out in the open for so long since usually they’re hidden. Tucked underneath his shirt, safe and secure where no-one could ever think to grab for them.

They almost feel like they’re strangling him, punishing him for being alive still.

“Don’t- don’t say things like that,” Geoff stammers and while outwardly he scoffs, inside he feels exhausted. He’s doing his best to keep the act up, but the anger is just burning him out and he’s tired. He wants to go home. He wants to go back in time. Instead, he clenches his jaw and levels Geoff with a glare.

“Why not?” he spits, “Because it makes you feel like shit? Because it tells you just how much I despise you? This-” he gestures to the space in between them, both physically and emotionally, “is because of you. You ruined everything-”

“It was an accident, Michael!” he tries, but Michael doesn’t pause.

“It wasn’t an accident. You made a decision and it got Jeremy and Gavin fucking  _killed_.” He sucks in a desperate breath. His head spins but he fights through it. “It’s your fucking fault, and it doesn’t matter how many times you apologize, or try to pretend that you’ve changed, I’m always going to remember how you didn’t even  _care_.”

“I did care, Michael,” he chokes and his voice is rough, “I  _do_ care”. There are tears forming in his eyes, Michael can see them refusing to fall, and he knows for sure he’s not going to stick around that much longer.

Something inside him snaps at the idea of Geoff crying. He doesn’t get to cry, he doesn’t get to  _fucking cry._ It builds and it builds inside of him until he slams his fist against the brick wall beside them, letting out a frustrated scream. “You don’t!” he yells, his shout echoing down the alley, “you fucking- you watched me break down and you did nothing! You did absolutely fucking  _nothing_ ,” he hisses.

“My best friends died, and you barely flinched, Geoff! You didn’t cry, you didn’t mourn, you acted as if they were low-level hires and ignored everything. You ignored me, you ignored everyone,” his voice cracks, and Michael has to clench his teeth together to muffle the sob in his throat, “and so  _that’s_ why Jack left.  _That’s_ why Ryan will kill you if he ever sees you again. You come back here begging for me to forgive you, well guess what, I don’t. And I  _never_ fucking will.”

He lets his gaze drop to the floor, searching for something that the dirty alleyway will  _never_ be able to give him. The adrenaline slowly fades from his body and all it leaves behind is a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I fucking wish it was me instead. I wish  _I_ had fucking died instead of them,” he mumbles, acid dripping from his tone. He can feel Geoff’s heavy gaze on him, but he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Michael doesn’t know how he’d react if Geoff tried to argue with him. He very well might just punch him. “But I didn’t, instead I get to live in this shithole of a city with  _you_ , knowing full well that if I had just ignored your orders and had gone to them instead, then maybe they’d still be here.”

He leans an elbow against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut.

He can remember that goddamn day in perfect detail, and he hates the way it’s been burned into his memory. He remembers the grin on Jeremy’s face that morning, the way he’d chased Gavin around the kitchen table while Ryan cooked their pancakes. He remembers Geoff going through the plans afterwards, tattooed fingers dragging over the list of narcotics being traded that afternoon.

He remembers kissing Geoff once for good luck before they left that morning.

“I could have forgiven you,” he whispers, sucking in a few desperate breaths to steady his breathing, “I could have forgiven you, everyone could have, but you were so determined to ruin everything else that I just can’t- I can’t do this with you anymore Geoff. I can’t keep getting your calls, I can’t keep seeing your car in front of my apartment building. So this is it, I’m calling it quits.”

“Michael,  _please_ ,” he tries, grabbing a hold of his right arm and in an instant, Michael back-hands him, the sound echoing through the alleyway. They both stand there for a moment, frozen still as the back of his hand stings like it’s been set on fire. Geoff opens his mouth, but when nothing but a broken sob comes out, Michael comes back to himself, straightening himself out and stepping backwards.

“If you still love me as much as you claim you do-” he hisses and Geoff quickly nods.

“I do. I  _do-_ ”

“Then you’ll leave me  _the fuck alone_ ,” he finishes and as he spins on his heel, his hand clenches into a fist by his side, waiting for Geoff to push his luck and try again.

He doesn’t, but Michael would have happily took the chance to knock him out. 


End file.
